


Hold On To Me, Just For A Little While

by petmunchkin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (who's a gift to this fandom), /sings bittersweet song of sorrow and a hundred tears/, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ghost!Hinata, M/M, bit of Humour too, blind!kageyama, blindness AU, dorky dorks in dorkland, except not really no, jumping on that bandwagon like ORYA!!, loosely inspired by tumblr’s craziiwolf, thanks so much??, twisting the heck out of this AU like KAPOWW!! PUWAHH!! (pfshh...), writing this basically fucked me up (real good I mean), yup yup that’s right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6513565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petmunchkin/pseuds/petmunchkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“I’m here.”</p>
  <p>The voice sounds faint but is actually very close, as Kageyama would expect it to be. Somewhere to his right, about on eye level, and his hand, despite everything, goes in search for its owner the moment it registers. <i>Like a reflex,</i> he thinks, grasping at air and that, too, he expects. Sort of.</p>
  <p>“Kageyama, you’re in my <i>face,”</i> comes the irritated comment, and Kageyama draws back immediately.</p>
  <p>“Oh. Sorry.”</p>
  <p>“Yeah.”</p>
</blockquote><br/>A terrible accident robs Kageyama of his eyesight.<p>That same accident robs Hinata of his life.</p>
<p>It doesn’t mean they can’t still be together. For a little while, at least...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On To Me, Just For A Little While

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by craziiwolf’s wonderful blindness AU. [Go check it out.](http://craziiwolf.tumblr.com/tagged/khblindnessau/)
> 
> I say _loosely_ inspired because, well... ghost!Hinata... @__@;; ~~Idk either don’t ask~~

Kageyama wakes up to darkness.

That’s not surprising, he wakes up to darkness every day. Even before the accident, he had a habit of getting up early to take a morning run, fresh out of bed. It was only in high summer that the sun would already be peeking over the horizon to greet his nose with a tickle of sunshine or two.

He can’t go running anymore. Too dangerous, his mother says.

He reaches out into the darkness now, blindly searching for what he knows he can’t grasp. It’s like a reflex; he relies on tactile response so much these days. It’s only when he realises what he’s doing, the futility of the action, does he draw back a little, frustration in the way his fingers curl inwards, disappointment in the press of his lips.

“Hinata...?”

His voice falls loud and heavy in the silence, and there’s no response.

“Hinata, are you there?”

He reaches out again, can’t help himself. If only he could—

“I’m here.”

The voice sounds faint but is actually very close, as Kageyama would expect it to be. Somewhere to his right, about on eye level, and his hand, despite everything, goes in search for its owner the moment it registers. _Like a reflex,_ he thinks, grasping at air and that, too, he expects. Sort of.

“Kageyama, you’re in my _face,”_ comes the irritated comment, and Kageyama draws back immediately.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Yeah.”

He swallows. “It’s just...”

Sometimes he thinks, _today’s the day._ _I will reach out my hand and it will **connect** —_

What a stupid thought. What a _desperate_ thought, to hope for the impossible, to still wish for more when he should be happy he’s got this much already. It could be so much worse, he knows, so much.

That doesn’t make it easier on either of them.

“It’s okay,” says Hinata then, and his voice is quiet, consoling. It’s like that a lot, these days, and Kageyama feels responsible, unbearably guilty for having caused it. Hinata should not sound like that. Ever. “Just. Don’t move for a bit and I’m gonna lay my hand over yours, okay? There.”

Kageyama lies still, on his back, with his hands unfurled on his stomach. Unfeeling.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Oh, you mean my hand? It’s there.”

Kageyama closes his eyes for a moment. Objectively, it makes no difference to him, darkness is darkness is darkness. But the action in itself is sort of a reflex, too, when he wants to let his mind wander for a bit, so he does. Imagines the way Hinata’s skin once felt against his, the way their hands would slide together effortlessly, palms warm against each other, fingertips brushing lightly. He imagines Hinata’s soft yet calloused hand on his and sighs.

“So, what are we gonna do today?” asks Hinata after a little while. He sounds more like himself now, chipper and sort of expectant, maybe.

Kageyama attempts a shrug.

“You’ve become so lazy,” Hinata chides, only half-serious.

“Shut up.” Kageyama thinks for a bit. “I have lessons later,” he muses out loud, and makes a disgruntled face. Not that he’s looking forward or anything. It’s weird not even knowing your teacher’s appearance, never mind that he’s still mostly clueless where anything involving school is concerned, and now more so than ever.

“After that?”

Kageyama remains silent. Before, there would’ve been a thousand and one possibilities. Before, there would’ve been volleyball and that would’ve been more than enough for the both of them.

Now, he can’t think of anything.

“Let’s go out for a bit, then,” says Hinata.

Kageyama breathes in, out. In, out again.

“Okay,” he says at last.

He wonders if they’re still ‘holding hands’.

-

The only time he’s sort of grateful for his blindsight is when he’s out on the streets with Hinata. It’s not that he cares so much for what people think of him; after all, they’ll see a young boy with a cane and the telling three-dot-armband around his bicep, and they’ll know instantly. Children will probably look out of curiosity, he figures, and adults will tell them not to while offering their help in the same breath, which he always tries to decline as politely as possible. He can’t exactly tell them he’s got his invisible spirit of a boyfriend with him to safely guide him through town, and not much else does he need.

Hinata does a bad job of it, however. Which is why they end up arguing more often than not, shouting insults and accusations back and forth between them, and so there he’ll be yelling at thin air and people will be looking at him, probably, at the blind, crazy boy who talks to himself nonstop.

Pity.

He can’t see that, however, the stares he gets—can only hear the murmurs, but those he mostly ignores—and he’s sort of fine with that. It’s better this way.

He’s less fine with Hinata wandering off every now and then. Suddenly his voice will be carrying from way over the street, some fifteen metres away, “THEY’RE SELLING ICECREAM, KAGEYAMA! IT’S ICECREAM SEASON AGAIN, DID YOU KNOW THAT? _ARGH_ I SO WISH I COULD HAVE ONE!!”

Kageyama is patient. Tries to be, anyway.

Before long, Hinata will come back to him, he knows. He always does, and then he’ll be guiding him across the street by vocal cues, as clumsy as ever, and Kageyama sometimes imagines the horrified stares he might get from passersby, wondering what he’s doing traversing traffic without the help of another person, or a dog, or even a stop light.

_Idiots, the lot of them,_ he thinks to himself, not caring either way.

And Hinata isn’t completely useless to him. In his own way, he’s perfect, describing sights and sounds for Kageyama probably without even realising what he’s doing, just sort of belting out his excitement about the mundane; kids playing Frisbee in the park and they look so happy, so carefree, and how the sky is blue today, not a cloud in sight, and isn’t that a church bell he hears, how late is it anyway, Bakayama?

“—Hey, do you smell meat buns? I think I smell meat buns!!”

Kageyama shakes his head, smiling. He doesn’t voice his suspicion that Hinata probably can’t smell anything anymore, swallows it along with the illusion they both seem to hold dear to their hearts.

“Hm, yeah. Meat buns,” he lies.

Kageyama is content. Content enough, as much as he can be, because he can’t see, and he can’t play volleyball anymore, and he stopped going to school in favour of being tutored at home, and it should be lonely, so very lonely, but it isn’t.

Hinata is still there with him.

“Do you wanna hold hands?”

Even if they can’t touch.

“In public? You’re kidding me, right? I don’t think so.”

-

He sees Hinata as a sort of orange blur. Not all the time, but most times. Always somewhere at the edge of his vision, except for when Hinata isn’t there, and Kageyama doesn’t tell him that he panics a little, feels a little left behind. Scared that he won’t come back one day.

Hinata’s about the only thing he sees anymore.

“F?” he asks hesitantly, fingertips brushing over the little knobs he’s still trying to become familiar with. He claims it’s because his hands are so calloused that he has problems with that.

(His mother says he’s just being lazy.)

(Hinata, laughing, agreed wholeheartedly and added “and stupid, too!”)

“That’s a D!” Hinata clicks his tongue at him. He makes it sound like _you should know this already, idiot._

Kageyama scrunches up his face, scowling. “Fine, D,” he grumps. He makes a note of that, too, before stating, “I’ll remember it from now on.”

“Are you sure, _Kageyama-kun?”_ There’s that familiar, very irritating hint of teasing in Hinata’s voice, which isn’t really all that subtle if he thinks about it, what with the added chuckle and all. If he could, Kageyama would punch him.

Instead, he says, “Yeah, I’m sure.” And smirks. “I wanna be able to remember how to spell your name after all.”

“Wha—my name doesn’t have a D in it.” The words sound a bit confused, and Hinata’s probably frowning, but his tone is a little sulky, too, like he can tell where this is going and he doesn’t appreciate. At all.

Kageyama’s grin only widens.

“Are you sure, _**d** umbass?”_

He imagines Hinata’s whacking him on the head.

(Some things just never change.)

-

Hinata kisses him sometimes.

Or maybe he does it more than just sometimes, Kageyama wouldn’t exactly know. But now and then he’ll simply announce it, out loud like the idiot he is, “I’m gonna kiss you now, Tobio!”

Kageyama blushes, like he always does.

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Where?” Because he has to know, to imagine it. Imagine it _right._

Then, sometimes it’ll be his cheek, just a simple peck, and sometimes it’ll be a gentle press between his shoulder blades, when he sits slumped over at the table trying to make sense of his Braille. Sometimes on his forehead, soft and warm, he imagines while closing his eyes, or sometimes on his fingertips, his knuckles, because Hinata’s always sort of loved his hands (he had told him that once).

“Hm, lips,” Hinata says today, decidedly, and Kageyama closes his eyes without hesitation, leans into the kiss wearing a not-so-scary-smile.

It’s funny how they can still sync it up so well. At least, that’s what he thinks happens, because when he draws back, opens his eyes again to even more darkness, Hinata says, with a contented sigh, “That was nice.” He could be lying for all Kageyama knows, could have easily cheated by keeping his eyes open throughout, but he likes to think that that’s not the case.

That they still know their way around each other, even with one of them unable to see, and the other dead.

“Thank you.”

That’s another thing Hinata does sometimes. Kageyama knows from the inflection in his voice that he isn’t talking about the kiss, and it squeezes his heart something fierce.

“Thank you, you know. For trying to save me. Thank you. I feel like I can never tell you enough.”

Hinata never apologises. Never. He never gets mad at Kageyama for having tried, and he never chides him for failing and ruining his own life in the process. “It’s not ruined,” he’d told him, back when Kageyama was still in hospital, recuperating. “You’re not ruined. I’m not ruined. We’re not... _ruined.”_ He spat the word out like it was poison.

“You’re dead and I’m blind.” _What’s more left to ruin?_ Hopeless. That’s what he sounded like, bleak and hopeless. Given up.

“I’m still here,” Hinata had said, defiant until the literal end. “Doesn’t sound very dead to me.” And, when Kageyama didn’t speak up,” What, so that’s it? You’re giving up, just like that? Fine, then I win. I’ve finally beaten you and good riddance.”

Kageyama ignored the sniffle that followed, dug angry nails into his thigh, gritted his teeth. “This is not a competition, dumbass.”

“Yeah, well, I’m making it one.” Leave it to Hinata to be stupidly stubborn, even in this situation, he’d thought, wondering where his anger was really directed at. _“I’m_ not giving up—are you?”

Kageyama gulped.

“ _Are_ you?”

“No...”

“No?”

He’d taken another moment, another shuddering breath—

_(“I’m still here, though.”)_

_(“Fine, then I win.”)_

_(“I’ve finally beaten you and good riddance.”)_

“No.”

And that’s when he first saw the orange blur. Right in front of his eyes.

-

“I have a beard now, you know.”

Kageyama snorts.

Snorts again.

_“Sure,”_ he says, not even bothering to mask his sarcasm.

“It’s true, though! How would you know, you can’t see!” Kageyama doesn’t say anything to that. “Anyway, I think it’s a ghost thing or something. Every ghost must have a beard, like that.”

“Even the girls?”

“Especially the girls!” Hinata laughs quietly. “Bakayama, you have no idea, they look so ridiculous.”

Kageyama knows for a fact that Hinata hasn’t seen any other ghosts, hairy girls or not.

“Probably less ridiculous than you.”

Hinata laughs again, not in the least offended, it seems. That’s the Hinata Kageyama loves most, happy and carefree. He can’t always keep up with him when he’s like this, but in his own way, Kageyama tries, one step at a time.

“I wish I could see you.”

And then he puts his foot in his mouth and stupidity comes out, and there goes the light atmosphere like _whoosh._

_Idiot,_ he thinks, bitterly. _Idiot, idiot—_

But he isn’t lying. Hearts don’t lie.

Hinata is silent for a bit. For so long, in fact, that Kageyama panics a little again, reaches out on reflex, calling for him.

“I’m right here, stupid,” says Hinata beside him, maybe rolling his eyes. His voice carries from somewhere close to Kageyama’s shoulder; he imagines Hinata leaning on it. “I wish I could touch you,” he confesses, simply. He doesn’t sound sad, rather than openly longing.

In a way, Kageyama is so envious of him. It’s true, he is the one _in_ the world, and Hinata very much isn’t anymore, but the one thing, besides volleyball, Kageyama misses the most, he can neither touch and neither see, and it hurts him so much.

Sometimes it just hurts and hurts, and Hinata’s voice close to his ear eases the pain, but not entirely.

Never entirely.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah...”

-

He doesn’t go to school anymore, but sometimes he does. It’s usually Hinata who drags him there, adamant that he cannot let his friendships die because of simple neglect, and that he wouldn’t be able to live without his one true passion if he tried.

Hinata knows him so well.

“KAGEYAMAAAA!! MY KOUHAIIII!!”

That’s Nishinoya, and from the way he sounds Kageyama braces himself for the inevitable impact. Weird, he thinks, how his disability apparently caused some people to believe he’s fair game for physical affection all of a sudden. Nishinoya collides with his side, as expected, not too fast but not too careful, either, and there’s a punch to his shoulder less than a second later, just as equally expected, and Kageyama feels, well... loved. Sort of.

It’s nice.

Others come stomping over as well, and there are more hands in his hair, ruffling for a bit, and some settling on his shoulders and on his back. Mainly the third-years and second-years; he supposes the first-years are still a little afraid of him, but if it’s his face or his blindness, he doesn’t know. That’s okay, though, he thinks, they still greet him kindly, warmly.

No one greets Hinata.

(“That’s fine, I’m fine,” he whispers, close by and probably smiling, and Kageyama doesn't wonder how he knew that he was worried.)

They sit on the sidelines for the most part. Listening to the sounds of shoes squeaking on the floor, volleyballs being flung all around, cries of encouragement and apology and the occasional suggestion for improvement or a different strategy echoing throughout the gym. Hinata comments it all for him, as he’s wont to do, telling him of how awesome Yamaguchi’s float serve has become, you wouldn’t believe, and Ennoshita’s face seriously rivals Sawamura-senpai’s when he scolds Tsukishima for snarking at a first-year, _scaaary,_ and Wataru-kun is doing really good, like _really,_ his tosses have become so much better already. He’s no King yet, says Hinata—Kageyama glares in his general direction at that, hopes the idiot’s flinching at least—but with more hard work and honest dedication their little kouhai has a chance to get close to greatness, one day. Maybe.

“Like Oikawa-san.”

“Hm, like the Grand King,” Hinata affirms. Then he seems to think better of it, “Eh. Probably not.”

They laugh.

He talks to Yachi for a bit, too, when she’s not busy helping out her boys, and all the while makes sure to rest his hand at his other side, palm turned firmly upward, hoping that Hinata’s taken the cue and slid his own right in.

(“You’re so cheesy, Bakayama.”)

It’s somewhere at the end of practice that Tanaka appears by his side and smacks his back, none too gently. “Slacking off, I see, I see,” he muses, and Kageyama imagines him making a faux-thoughtful face. So Tanaka. “Not with your co-captain in charge!” He proceeds to positively drag Kageyama from the bench and positions him somewhere on court, mutely shoving a volleyball into his hands. That’s Tanaka for you, he thinks, brutal, honest. Kageyama wouldn’t have it any other way. “Show our first-years what a good jump serve is, Kageyama! Go, go, go!” From somewhere behind him, Hinata is shouting himself hoarse with excitement.

So Kageyama does. Tries. He misses half his serves, and that’s sort of discouraging, but the ones that do connect feel good, aching in his hand but familiar, even if they more often than not end up going into the net. But from behind and beside him and generally all around, there are multiple voices shouting and yelling, “Don’t mind, don’t mind,” and, “One more, one more!” They holler and cheer, and Hinata’s voice is the loudest of them all. Kageyama can’t help but smile to himself.

“Toss to me!”

It doesn’t come unexpected. Rather, he’s been sort of hoping for this, all along.

Kageyama closes his eyes, moves a few steps closer to the net, hoping that that’s enough, and then he imagines it: Hinata running up to the net. Hinata jumping, soaring, up up up. Hinata with one hand pointed to the sky and the other ready to smash the ball back down to earth.

He tosses.

He hears the ball hit the ground exactly where he anticipated it would, and even though he knows it’s the wrong side of the net, it didn’t go over at all, he has a feeling like—

“GUWAHH!! It hit my hand! Kageyama! It was right there and it hit my hand just right! OHMYGOD!!”

_Yeah,_ he thinks, smiling serenely. _Still in sync._ And there’s a strange sort of satisfaction that settles deep inside his chest, but it is so light, so light.

Perfect.

(And for once, the gym is completely silent.)

-

“I think I’m fading,” Hinata confesses to him one day.

Kageyama swivels around in his chair, looks in the general direction of his voice. “What?” Suddenly, he feels sick.

“I think that’s why my voice is so faint? Remember, you’ve said it before. I think I can sort of feel it, too, that I’m fading, I mean.” The shock must show on Kageyama’s face, he supposes, because Hinata is quick to add, “Not right now! Bakayama, I’m still here!” He huffs, sounding irritated. “I meant, like, slowly. Over time.”

It’s not a surprise. Not really. Like waking up in darkness, like reaching for Hinata and finding nothing, it’s not a surprise, and Kageyama knew all along. They both knew, probably, just never talked about it, because you don’t talk about your dead boyfriend’s spirit slowly fading away, until one day he will be gone and you’ll be the one left behind, shrouded in everlasting darkness. All alone.

Kageyama can’t speak. Hangs his head and turns away from him.

Then, because neither of them speaks for a good while, and when he turns back the orange blur is _gone,_ he panics again, unseeing eyes darting frantically around.

“Hinata? HINATA—!”

“I’m still here,” Hinata says, from very close beside him, and Kageyama turns to him, sees orange orange orange and breathes a pure sigh of relief. “I’m not going anywhere for a while, at least. I hope.” That last part is said very quietly.

Kageyama so wishes he could believe him. He so, so does.

But.

_“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride,”_ as his mother always likes to say, and although Kageyama had no idea what that means he’s only ever seen a live horse maybe once or twice in his life, and he’s pretty sure it wasn’t a beggar riding.

-

Sometimes Hinata isn’t there. Kageyama always worries, can’t help it.

He usually tells him when he leaves, though, and where, and that’s somewhat comforting, if not entirely so.

Hinata goes to see his family. Kageyama knows it’s not an easy feat, something that takes him days to build up the courage to do. “Go,” Kageyama sometimes tells him then, when he’s had enough of the moping around and stretched-out silences and occasional harsh words. “I’ll be okay, just. Go.” He never thinks of telling Hinata to go _permanently,_ however. He doesn’t think he could ever do that.

If that makes him selfish, then so be it.

Most days Hinata comes back relieved, if a bit sad. They’re coping, he tells Kageyama, and his voice sounds like he’s trying to smile really hard, so Kageyama tries too. They’re moving on—that’s good, isn’t it? Natsu doesn’t cry so much anymore, and his parents still do, naturally, but they also laugh sometimes, over little, stupid things, they do and that’s what counts. It means it’s going to be all right.

But then, “They’re _moving on,”_ Hinata says one day, sounding upset, and Kageyama takes a moment to understand, but when he does it feels like he’s falling and hitting the ground at the same time.

They’re moving on, as in, _moving on._

**_Moving._ **

Literally.

That’s when the days where Hinata leaves him become a bit more numerous, and Kageyama stews in his depression, his loneliness, but he tries not to show it too much, because Hinata’s given up his life already—not freely—and now he’s going to have to give up his family, too. And this time it’s only sort of forced, because he could always go with them, but he assures Kageyama time and again, “I’m staying with you. Until the very end, I’m staying with you. I’ve already decided.”

_You shouldn’t,_ is what Kageyama doesn’t say, because he can’t. He simply can’t bring himself to let go.

_You don’t have to if you don’t want,_ is what Kageyama only briefly considers, before his chest starts aching terribly and the words get stuck in his throat, rotting and then gone.

_I don’t need you,_ is the lie that spreads on his tongue, only once, fat and dripping until his selfishness puts a blanket on it, soaks it all up and nothing remains but his own needs and desires.

In a way, he hasn’t changed.

“I’m sorry,” is what he eventually whispers although that, at least, he means.

A moment of silence passes between them.

“You can’t see me but I’m, like, hitting you so much right now,” says Hinata then, suddenly, sounding beyond aggravated. “Bakayama! Idiot! Just because you’re blind doesn’t mean you get a free pass being an asshole to me! I hate you so much!”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything.

“And because I hate you so much,” Hinata huffs, pauses, “Because I hate you _so much..._ I have to stay here so I can tell you every day. So you won’t ever forget.”

If Kageyama smiles a little at that, if he feels elated beyond compare, then that’s his selfishness making itself known, probably, and he doesn’t mind so much as he lets on.

-

Kageyama can feel it when it happens.

He thinks that’s what startles him into consciousness that night, reaching out before he even knows it. Sometimes, the body reacts much faster than the mind can.

“Hinata...?”

His voice falls loud and heavy in the silence, and there’s no response.

“Hinata, are you there?”

A sob. Small, bitter.

Lost.

“I’m here...”

All at once, Kageyama knows what’s happening. It’s in the way Hinata speaks, quiet and his voice faint—so _very_ faint—and his words aren’t reassuring at all, they chill him right down to the bone. It’s in the way the darkness before his eyes seems so much more threatening and suffocating, suddenly, and he can’t see any orange at all.

Hinata sobs.

“Shouyou,” he whispers, realising that he must be crying, “Shouyou,” trying not to sound too scared, but he is. So very much. “Shouyou?”

“I’m sorry,” comes the answer, and it’s nowhere near what Kageyama wants to hear. He reaches out, hesitant, hand hovering somewhere in midair, as dread spreads from within and he starts shaking all over. He wants to ask, but he’s too afraid to know the answer.

“Shouyou, are you—”

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up,” Hinata cuts him off, whispering. “I thought you wouldn’t—that I would—without you _knowing_ —” He stops, breathes heavily, sobs again. Kageyama _wishes_ he could hold him. Hug him tight and never ever let go.

_Fading,_ is what Hinata doesn’t say in that moment. But they both know, and the word hangs between them like smoke, thick and stifling, and Kageyama feels himself positively choking on it.

“No...”

It’s true though. He knows it is, somehow, he can feel it deep in his bones, like the smoke is spreading and seeping all warmth and comfort from him. They always knew this day would come, eventually, they did, they _knew,_ but.

“It’s too soon,” he whispers, and when his voice breaks audibly, and his eyes begin to sting, he becomes frantic. “It’s too soon—you can’t—Shouyou—we still have time—not yet— _not yet_ —”

“You know, I always thought it was weird why I stayed so long.” Impossibly, Hinata sounds _calm._ Or maybe not calm, exactly, rather than collected, like he’s trying to make a real effort to get whatever he wants to say across, before it’s too late. He stifles another sob and says, “I thought it wasn’t normal, it didn’t feel normal. But I think I know why, now.”

So does Kageyama. He always knew.

But he can’t get his voice to work, and so he has to let Hinata spell it out for him.

“Because I couldn’t let go, right? All this time, I couldn’t let go. And I didn’t want to let go! Of this life and of my family and of my friends and of volleyball.” He swallows thickly. “Of _you.”_

_Me neither,_ Kageyama wants to say— _scream—_ but nothing comes forth. He trembles and hopes Hinata hears him anyway.

“I know, I know,” Hinata says quickly, and his voice is suddenly soothing again, like it isn’t him dying, but it’s Kageyama, and don’t you be afraid, everything’s going to be all right.

_Liar._

Kageyama feels like dying.

“I still don’t want to go,” Hinata assures him, and he’s moved closer, impossibly, whispering in low, hushed tones, “I never wanted to, and I don’t want to now, but it’s like. The pull is so strong and it’s only getting stronger, wherever it’s pulling me, and I can’t stop it anymore. I can’t. I’m so sorry, Tobio—”

“So you’re giving up?” When Kageyama finally finds his voice again, the words are unkind, bitter, spiteful. He feels so angry. It’s not even directed at either of them, his anger, rather than the universe in general, their circumstances and fate or whatever it is that’s going to take Hinata from him. Again.

But he knows no other way to let it out, so he does it by accusing Hinata.

“No, no,” says Hinata, quietly, sounding shocked. “No. Why would you even—you’re so mean, Bakayama!” He sobs again, a sound that immediately imprints itself on Kageyama’s heart. It will remain, if nothing else does, he thinks. “I’m dying, here, okay, I’m _dying_ —you stupid prick—and I’m fucking _scared_ —”

Hinata’s voice breaks horribly, but all at once, Kageyama’s anger just... lifts. He stops shaking and he stops crying; instead, he breathes, in and out.

Calm.

Steady.

“Don’t be,” he says at last. His hand reaches and he grasps air, but he doesn’t mind, not anymore. It’s the gesture that counts, he knows. “Shouyou, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry. Don’t be scared.” _It’s going to be all right,_ is what he cannot say, though, because he doesn’t know.

He hears Hinata breathing, too, a little strained and somewhat too frantic, but soon it evens out. Soon, it starts to match Kageyama’s almost rise by fall, until they’re so in sync with each other as if they were back on court.

“Yes,” Hinata whispers, “Okay. Okay. I won’t be, I’m not scared.” He mutters it a few more times to himself, like a mantra, for him or for Kageyama, he doesn’t know. Probably both. “I’m not scared. I’m not scared, I’m not scared.”

“Are you in any pain?” asks Kageyama, because it just hit him and he doesn’t know but he _needs_ to know. Even though there’s likely nothing he could do for him if he were.

“No.”

A breath of relief. “Keep talking, then,” he says, “Doesn’t matter what, I don’t care. Just. Until you’re gone, keep talking to me.” _I want to know when I lose you._

“What?” Hinata actually laughs a little at that, the sound not nearly as broken as what Kageyama feels like inside. “Making me work for it until the very end, are you? So demanding,” he chides playfully.

“Whatever. You know me.”

“I do, I know you.”

“You do.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.” There. “So much, I love you. I love you.” It’s superfluous, he thinks, to say. Kageyama’s never been one for words anyway, believes them to be too readily said, sometimes, too easily misunderstood or misinterpreted. But this he needs Hinata to know, even if it’s glaringly obvious—but it’s always been glaringly obvious—and there’s nothing to misinterpret here: he means every word.

_(“As long as I’m here...”)_

“Stop,” says Hinata, and Kageyama does. “Here’s what we’ll do.” He can only marvel at how strong Hinata sounds in that moment, even though his voice is so far away already. Slipping. “I’m not going to say goodbye, and you’re not going to say goodbye, okay, because... because...”

_It’s not._

_It’s not goodbye._

Kageyama understands. They’ve always, always understood each other like that, with or without words, and now is no exception, no matter if he can’t see, and Hinata is fading by the second.

“Fine,” he whispers back.

“And...” Hinata seems to think for a moment. “I won’t make you promise that you’ll keep going, okay? You know, live your life and all that, visit Karasuno, kiss your mother and hug her properly, make an effort in your studies—‘cause you’ll do that yourself, right? Because you’re no quitter. I know you.”

Kageyama remains silent. He doesn’t nod and he doesn’t he shake his head.

He thinks, somewhat proudly—but somewhat frustrated, too—that Hinata is sort of a cheater. Because he keeps talking about not making promises when they already promised _ages_ ago and he must remember, and he probably does, too, and so there’s nothing for it.

Kageyama will do his best.

_(“All the way to the top?”)_

_(“All the way to the top!”)_

“And?” he asks, because he has a feeling there’s more.

“And...” Hinata takes a deep breath. Sighs. “I’m going to kiss you now, Tobio.”

_Ah._

His tongue feels thick, somehow, when he answers, “Yes. Of course.”

And he closes his eyes.

And he wets his lips, once.

And then he sees it before his unseeing eye, clear as day, and maybe, he thinks, he can feel it, too, a little. If he concentrates enough he can feel it: that small puff of air across his skin, followed by a soft, light press on his mouth, as their lips slide together like they used to, and their noses collide a little because even at the very end they manage to misjudge the angle, but still Hinata is smiling, of course, he’s always smiling, and so is Kageyama, he’s smiling as well—

_(“I love you, too.”)_

“...Shouyou?”

There’s no response.

-

-

-

_“I’m hungry,” says Kageyama, his stomach growling almost in time with his statement._

_“Oohh, me too, me too! Meat buns?”_

_“Sure.”_

_Hinata grins, Kageyama’s all-time favourite grin._

Scratch that, _he thinks. All Hinata’s grins are his favourite._

_“Race you there?”_

_Kageyama huffs a little bit—purely out of habit at this point—but nods, never one to back down from a challenge. Looking forward to it, rather like._

_“Ready?”_

_“Ready.”_

_“Set?”_

_“Set!”_

_“GO!!” they yell together, and then they take off, side by side. As always._

_About ten blocks later, neither of them pays particular attention to the car speeding their way. It’s only when it’s close to impact does Kageyama finally react, his instincts kicking in all of a sudden, and in that split second where he reaches for Hinata, shouting his name, pulling him close—_

**Author's Note:**

> ~~cue the sound of hearts breaking~~
> 
> -
> 
> m (__ __ ; ; m
> 
> Thanks for reading/suffering. This was somewhat very melodramatic and I apologise for that. I also completely half-assed the ending sorry... (o__o;)
> 
> Reviews and ConCrit are very much appreciated.
> 
> If you would kindly point out glaring mistakes, English is not my first language, but I’m always eager to learn!
> 
> Cheers~
> 
> PS.: Did I already mention to check out craziiwolf? No? [Please do.](http://craziiwolf.tumblr.com)


End file.
